


Chickens, Chocolate and Community Service

by dairesfanficrefuge_archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-03-10
Updated: 1999-03-10
Packaged: 2018-12-18 05:29:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11867724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dairesfanficrefuge_archivist/pseuds/dairesfanficrefuge_archivist
Summary: Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived atDaire's Fanfic Refuge. Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onDaire's Fanfic Refuge's collection profile.





	Chickens, Chocolate and Community Service

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Daire's Fanfic Refuge](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Daire%27s_Fanfic_Refuge). Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Daire's Fanfic Refuge's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/dairesfanficrefuge/profile).

Chickens, Chocolate and Community Service by Andi C.

_Chickens, Chocolate and Community Service_

By Andi Charleville 

* * *

Jim Ellison, a detective with the Cascade PD Major Crime unit, stood at the door, tapping his foot impatiently. He glanced at his watch for the third time in as many minutes, wincing as he heard the sound of the zipper of a suitcase coming from Blair's bedroom. The kid had found something else that he just had to take. 

"Chief, come on! We're going to miss our plane if we don't leave - _NOW!_ " 

"Chill, big guy. I'm ready." Blair said as he came out of the bedroom with two huge suitcases. Jim stared in amazement. 

"Chief, this is not a dig in the middle of the Peruvian jungle. This is New Orleans that we're going to. They have all the comforts of home, you know. And we're only going to be there for two days. You don't need to bring all your worldly possessions with you." Jim ruffled Blair's hair, doing little to disturb the already unruly curls. Then he grabbed one of the suitcases, nearly dislocating his shoulder at the weight of it. "What do you have in here, anyway? The entire library of Rainier University?" 

"Just the necessities, Jim, I promise. This isn't an ordinary trip we're taking here, man. This is _Mardi Gras_. Man, this is gonna be so cool!" 

Jim shook his head in exasperation, not even wanting to hazard a guess at what the grad student considered a necessity. "We're not going there to party, Chief. We have a prisoner to transport back, remember!" Normally, Blair Sandburg, police observer and Jim's partner/best friend/roommate, wouldn't even go on an extradition pick-up. But Jasper Riley was a cunning and devious little weasel. Jim would need to be on full alert to make sure the man didn't escape capture again. And Jim couldn't chance using his special abilities without Blair there, acting as his Guide. 

Jim Ellison was a Sentinel, a genetic throwback to earlier times when people lived in tribes. Sentinels were warriors whose senses were heightened beyond the range of normal humans, in order to better protect their tribes. But without their Guides, partners who could help them control all the sensory input they received, they risked going into 'zone-outs', concentrating so completely on their senses that the outside world ceased to exist. 

Jim had met Blair three years ago, when his Sentinel abilities had resurfaced. Blair was an anthropology student who was studying Jim's abilities for his thesis. But in the past three years, Blair had become Jim's Guide. So Jim would need him on this trip. He couldn't risk 'zoning-out' while transporting Riley back to Cascade to stand trial. If he did, Riley could escape, and Jim or someone around him could get killed. 

Jim glanced at his watch again, then gave up. They didn't have time to argue if they intended to catch their plane. They headed out the door. 

It was late when the two men finally reached their hotel. Jim was tired, and his head was pounding. Sometimes, these abilities could be troublesome. Being trapped in the confines of an airplane with a couple of hundred people, all of whom smelled of perfume, shampoo and any number of other scents, was not easy for him to deal with. Even with Blair trying to guide him into turning down the mental 'dials' of his senses, he couldn't block everything out. 

Both men slept late the next morning, and enjoyed a leisurely lunch. Then Jim wanted to head over to the police department. He wanted to get all the paperwork handled so they could leave on time the next day. He and Blair had a brief 'discussion' on this, as the kid wanted to explore a little. Jim finally got him to agree, on the condition that the evening they would do what Blair wanted. Jim knew he was making a mistake, but it was hard to say no to Blair sometimes. 

When they entered the station, the two men headed over to the desk sergeant. Jim flashed his badge. "Detective Ellison, Cascade PD. I need to speak to someone in your fugitive unit." The sergeant reached for the phone and motioned Jim and Blair over to the line of chairs against the wall. Several minutes later, a tall, lanky black man headed towards them. Jim and Blair both stood up, as the man held out his hand. 

"Detective Ellison?" he asked. Jim nodded. "I'm Detective Rick Thibideau. Nice to meet you." 

"You, too. This is my partner, Blair Sandburg." Thibideau shook Blair's hand, then motioned them to follow him. Soon, they were gathered around Thibideau's desk, and Jim was looking over the extradition forms. 

"Everything looks in order, Detective. So, Riley will be ready to go tomorrow morning, then?" 

"Please, call me Rick. Yeah, everything's set. Judge Draper signed everything this morning, and the jail has been alerted to your requests." He leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. "So, you two got any plans for tonight?" 

Jim and Blair exchanged looks, and then Jim shook his head. "Nothing concrete. Why?" 

Rick stood up and grabbed his jacket off the chair. "Let me buy you guys dinner, then I'll show you the town. Can't have you visiting New Orleans during Mardi Gras without experiencing some of the insanity." 

Jim smiled as Blair's face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. "Okay. But I gotta tell you, I get enough insanity just having Sandburg as a partner." He ducked, laughing, as Blair aimed a half-hearted punch at him. 

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny, Jim." Blair said, a smile on his face. 

The restaurant that Rick took them to was a small family-owned business that served a wonderful combination of French and Cajun cooking. The only blot on the dinner was the flowers that were on the table. They were giving Jim's Sentinel abilities fits, and he kept sneezing. The owner, a friendly, petite woman named Rosina finally took them away, telling Jim that her daughter suffered from allergies, too. Jim just nodded, letting her keep her mistaken impression. 

After dinner, Rick did, indeed, 'show them the town.' After maneuvering in and out of the crowds, they finally ended up at one of the many bars in the French Quarter. Jim was glad that Blair had reminded him to turn down the 'dials' on all his senses so he wasn't overwhelmed. He had to admit that he was enjoying himself, but he put on his 'I'm-only-tolerating-this-for-your-sake' expression for Blair. 

Even with his senses turned down, it didn't take Jim long to realize that the boisterous revelry going on all around them did not extend to the banquet room at the back of the bar. The lack of noise made it a welcome respite, and Jim headed in that direction, followed by Rick and Blair. He came to a standstill as he took in the scene before him. Rick finally explained. 

"That's old Judge Duval." 

"He's a real judge?" Blair asked. 

Rick nodded. "He retired from the bench about four years ago." It didn't take a Sentinel to hear the respect in Rick's voice. "A lot of the people around here either can't afford or don't want to go through the legal system. So Judge Duval comes here every Tuesday to settle disputes. The thing of it is, everyone who comes here abides by his decisions. Most people come away satisfied with the outcomes. He's a little loopy sometimes, but he's fair in his judgments and his punishments." 

"What do you mean, 'loopy?'" Jim asked softly. 

"Just watch." 

It didn't take long for Jim and Blair to see what Rick meant. The next case was of a teenager who, on a dare from his friends, had stolen one of the chickens owned by a neighbor. He had killed it, plucked it and was intending to cook it so he and his friends could 'eat the evidence.' Judge Duval banged the gavel and instructed his 'bailiff' to escort the victim to the stand. The neighbor got up and proceeded to the front. He was about to sit down when Judge Duval stopped him. 

"Sir, please resume your previous seat." 

The man was startled, as were others in the room, Jim and Blair included. "Sir?" the man questioned. "I thought you asked me to take the stand." 

"I asked for the victim. Unless you were the one killed and plucked, I'd say that wasn't you. Where's the chicken?" The man acting as the bailiff brought the chicken and placed it on the seat next to the judge. 

Judge Duval studied the chicken for several moments, nodding as if listening to some very important testimony. It was a tribute to the respect these people held for the man that no one laughed or snickered. They simply kept silent, as if this were a real courtroom and a real case. Finally the judge fixed his stare on the defendant. 

"Young man, this court finds you guilty of the charge. You will work ten hours this week for your neighbor to compensate him for the loss of the chicken. I also sentence you to ten hours of community service. Next week, you will report to the local animal shelter for two hours every day after school. You will clean cages, feed and bathe animals, and do anything else the shelter workers and your neighbor ask of you. Hopefully, this will teach you a lesson about stealing and responsibility for animals. Dismissed." He banged his gavel on the table and called for the next case. 

They watched for a few more cases, then decided to head out. Jim and Rick were deep in discussion about some of the more bizarre cases each had worked on, and didn't notice Blair get separated from them in the crowd. Since Jim had turned his senses down, he didn't hear Blair call him from the mob that was pushing him farther and farther away from the two cops. It wasn't until they heard the police whistles farther down the block that Jim turned and noticed that his partner wasn't behind them. He got a sinking feeling in his gut as he saw the uniformed officers. He knew that if trouble had occurred, Blair was sure to be in the middle of it. The kid seemed to draw it like a magnet. 

By the time he and Rick had made it down to the congregation of uniformed officers, it was all over, and the police van was pulling away with its load of prisoners. While Jim called Blair's name, Rick went over to talk to the beat cops. Having failed to find Blair, Jim returned to Rick's side just in time to hear one of the officers badmouth his partner. 

"You mean that long-haired hippie punk?" he stated, his tone of voice speaking volumes about his views. "Yeah, we arrested him. The van just took a whole group of them down to the jail." 

Jim grabbed the man's arm and spun him around. "Arrested him for what?" he growled. 

The cop shrugged off Jim's hand. "The whole group was arrested for public drunkenness. What's it to you?" 

Rick intervened before Jim could knock the beat cop flat on his ass. "This is Detective Ellison, from the Cascade, Washington PD." The uniformed cop swallowed, then seemed to wilt under Jim's glare. 

"That 'long-haired hippie' is my partner, and he's is _not_ drunk. He's been drinking soda all night." He turned to Rick. "Can we go get him?" 

"Yeah, man, let's go. Hopefully, we can clear this up quickly, before they have a chance to start processing any of them." He headed off, and after throwing one last, furious glare at the cop, Jim followed. 

When they got to the jail, Rick asked the cops about the latest group that had been brought in. The corrections officer shook his head. 

"Look, Detective, I'm really sorry, but they've been coming in pretty steady all night long. We've just been putting them in the cells, then taking them out one at a time as we can. You're welcome to go up and try to find him, but I warn you, those cells are really crowded. There's no telling what holding area he may have been put in." The guy buzzed them into the area, and pointed the two men in the direction of the first set of holding cells. 

Rick turned to Jim to see if they should split up to quicken the search, but Jim wasn't listening. At least, not to Rick. Jim had turned his senses back on, and was focusing on his sense of smell. The overwhelming numbers of scents threw him for a second, but he quickly recovered. He strained to catch a whiff of that one, particular smell-the shampoo Blair used. If he could find it, he would find Blair. 

Rick didn't know what to think when Jim, still silent, suddenly took off down one of the corridors. Coming up on a door leading to one of the cellblocks, Rick quickly flashed his badge, and they were buzzed in. Jim walked down; past cell after cell, all crowded to overflowing. He finally stopped in front of one, and Rick looked in. He shot a startled glance at Jim, then called out to the duty sergeant. 

Blair leaped up from the floor of the holding cell, and moved towards the bars. "Jim, man, like I am _so_ glad to see you. You wouldn't believe what happened." 

Jim just shook his head, giving his friend a slight smile. "Chief, with you, I'd believe just about anything. But in this case, you don't have to explain. I met the cop who arrested you." His gaze hardened, and Blair's eyes widened. 

"Uh, Jim, you didn't do anything we'd regret, did you?" 

"No, Rick stopped me before I gave the guy a major attitude adjustment. All the same, I don't think he'll be judging people by their looks anymore. Nobody calls my partner a 'long-haired hippie punk' and gets away with it." 

Blair started laughing. "Seems I've heard those words before, Jim." he said, reminded of the first time he and Jim had met. "Although, I believe the exact phrase that time was 'long-haired hippie _witch doctor_ punk.'" 

Jim had the grace to look embarrassed, and didn't say another word as the duty sergeant unlocked the cell and let Blair out. Blair joined the two men and said, "Can we go? I am like so ready to get out of here." 

"Had enough of Mardi Gras, Chief?" Jim asked. 

"Let's just say that I'm definitely _not_ unhappy with the prospect of sleeping in a nice, clean hotel room tonight. The maid service here stinks." He wrinkled his nose, then laughed. 

"Sorry." The duty sergeant chipped in. "The maid quit, and we ran out of mints to leave on the pillows. But we do have chocolate." He said, motioning to a bag of Hershey's kisses he had sitting on his desk. Each man took a couple, but Jim unobtrusively sniffed his, then threw it in the garbage can when they got out of the man's sight. 

"What's wrong?" Blair whispered, so Rick wouldn't hear. "You love chocolate." 

"Yeah, Chief," Jim whispered back. "But that stuff is so stale, it doesn't take enhanced senses to detect it." He walked off after Rick. Blair looked at Jim's retreating form, then down at the candy in his hand. 

"Never argue with your Sentinel, Blair" he muttered to himself as his candy followed Jim's in to the trashcan. 

**THE END**

* * *

© 1999   
Please send comments to the author! 

03/10/1999 

* * *


End file.
